Not, of course, that she cared for a moment what he thought of
her, but he ought to have known better than to have stolen upon
her while she was behaving in such a ridiculous, childish way. It
showed what he was capable of.

"My name is Ralph Peden," he said humbly. "I came from Edinburgh
the day before yesterday. I am staying with Mr. Welsh at the
manse."

Winsome Charteris glanced down at the books and blushed still more
deeply. The Hebrew Bible and Lexicon lay harmlessly enough on the
grass, and the Luther was swinging in a frivolous and
untheological way on the strong, bent twigs of broom. But where
was the note-book? Like a surge of Solway tide the remembrance
came over her that, when she had plucked the dandelion for her
soothsaying, she had thrust it carelessly into the bosom of her
lilac-sprigged gown. Indeed, a corner of it peeped out at this
moment. Had he seen it?--monstrous thought! She knew young men and
the interpretations that they put upon nothings! This, in spite of
his solemn looks and mantling bashfulness, was a young man.

"Then I suppose these are yours," said Winsome, turning sideways
towards the indicated articles so as to conceal the note-book. The
young man removed his eyes momentarily from her face and looked in
the direction of the books. He seemed to have entirely forgotten
what it was that had brought him to Loch Grannoch bridge so early
this June morning. Winsome took advantage of his glance to feel
that her sunbonnet sat straight, and as her hand was on its way to
her clustering curls she took this opportunity of thrusting
Ralph's note-book into more complete concealment. Then her hands